


Freeze and Shatter

by Gileonnen



Series: The Blade of the Vanguard [7]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Compassion in Unlikely Places, Gen, Learning to Wield Stasis, Maladaptive Trauma Responses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: Ever since he learned to wield Stasis, Kalith hasn't felt warm.
Relationships: Male Guardian/Zavala (Destiny)
Series: The Blade of the Vanguard [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671325
Comments: 15
Kudos: 48





	Freeze and Shatter

Ice in every joint and fold. Kalith flexes his hand and the glove crunches; he turns his head and ice breaks along the seal of his helmet. When he's been sitting too long, standing too long, he shifts position and sheds snow in sheets.

Fine, on Europa. Strange, on Nessus or the Tangled Shore.

The Void is a cold of absence--the long emptiness between the stars. It hollows you out. Stasis, though, is a cold of presence. It finds the cracks in things and breaks them apart.

 _I need you._ Hearing that is worth the breaking.

He would go to Mercury and stand in the infinite glare of the sun, but there is no Mercury anymore, and even if there were, the sun would not warm him. He has drenched himself in Solar light, huddled around a dawnblade as though it were a campfire, and the radiance has guttered before he's stopped shivering.

"I worry about you," says Pelagia, scanning him from every angle.

"I know," he says tightly. "I'm doing my absolute best not to start any Darkness-themed empires today."

"It's not that--you have a fever. Your lips are blue."

"Probably from sucking Zavala's dick."

She bumps her shell gently into his shoulder. "Take this seriously. We're in new territory here. This isn't just about whether you give in to temptation; it's about what it's doing to you to live on the edge of it."

"It's like any other edge," mutters Kalith. "The thinner it is, the deeper it cuts."

He unfolds his hand to her and lets her watch how the ice cracks at every crease. Under the thin sunlight, it melts slowly to water.

He shakes away the icemelt and wipes his hand on his robe.

* * *

Europa. Shotguns. Shanks. Hard to handle a bowstring right now (the line between a flinch and a shiver is thin, thin, so thin), but he can still blast through a few dozen shanks from close range. Five, six, seven, reload--like a dance where the eighth beat always shatters, fractal, into seven more. He can't calibrate his breath to it the way he can to the rhythm of nock-draw-release.

These shanks are House Salvation. They threaten Variks's friends, says Variks. Tactically important to reclaim this zone and get a foothold on Europa, says Zavala. All Kalith knows is that taking them down means pushing back the Darkness.

The shotgun clicks. Empty. He flings his hand out at the last shank, and ice coats and crushes it. The shank falls to the snow and shatters into shards of metal.

He was so sure he'd tuned himself to Solar Light. "Pelagia," he says.

She shimmers into being, a gleam of blue-white light against the endless blue-whiteness. Wind whistles through the spines of her shell. Snow catches in the curve below her eye. "Was I using Stasis before? Earlier in this fight?"

She shakes the snow off. Her points contract in a wince. "You were using Solar. I was wondering why you switched off."

"I didn't realize I'd switched."

"This is bad," says Pelagia, so softly that he almost can't hear her over the wind. "We need to talk to the folks at the Beyond camp. They'll know what to do."

Kalith doesn't know if that's true. His blood feels sluggish and sharp-edged in his veins. He reaches out for the Light, for the warmth of the sun or the crackling rush of lightning, and it's as though he's tuned into a weak signal--as though the Light is reaching out to him at a frequency he can no longer sense.

He shakes his head, hard, and drops a rift of Solar Light at his feet. The edges are crisp and perfect.

He lets out a long breath.

His mind is a fusebox and it's sparking.

* * *

Over the cliff and onto the ice flats; the nose of his Sparrow smashes through a snowbank, and packed snow goes flying.

The three of them are gathered around their fire: Eris Morn, the Drifter, the Exo Stranger. They look up together as he skids to a halt by their campsite. "What kinda bug's up your ass?" the Drifter asks, dodging back theatrically from the spray of ice.

Eris makes a noise of contempt. "He would not have come to us if it did not concern the Darkness. Nor would he have come to us so hastily, if it were not urgent."

"Speak your mind," the Stranger says, hands on her hips. Her expression is stern, but kind.

Kalith wants to tell them everything--the choices he doesn't remember making. The moments when his mind seems to shudder and blink. How he can't get warm, not on Earth or any other place.

Then he catches a glimpse of Zavala within the shelter, and those words die on his lips. "I have to--I need to speak to my commander," he says.

The Drifter rolls his eyes, but he gestures Kalith in.

It's warmer in the tent. _Warmer_ is relative. He can see Zavala's breath.

Zavala's brows go up at the sight of Kalith. He silences his comms. "If this is a social visit, I'm afraid it will have to be brief," he says. "I'm monitoring a critical operation at the Riis-Reborn Approach."

"Understood, sir." Kalith takes off his helmet, and ice shards cascade to the floor. "The Vanguard's official position is that Stasis should not be used. I know your ... personal position is more complicated. I understand that there are ends that necessitate certain means."

Zavala dips his head in acknowledgment. He raises one gloved hand to touch Kalith's cheek; the warmth of it is so intense that Kalith nearly whimpers.

"Please," says Kalith. It feels like something dredged up from deep within his chest. "I can't do this for you anymore. I'm losing myself."

Zavala meets Kalith's eyes, then drops his hand and draws him in for a crushing hug. Even through his armor, even through his hard-wearing winter gear, he is a pillar of heat. Kalith drinks in the living warmth of him, and it flows like molten gold into every crack and crevice. "If you've been doing this for me, then you've been doing it for the wrong reasons. You have nothing left to prove to me."

"You said you needed me, and I wanted to be useful to you," says Kalith against Zavala's chestplate. "I want to be the blade in your hand."

"Blades are replaceable," answers Zavala. "Guardians are not. _You_ are not."

He lets go suddenly and tilts his head--listening to something over the comms, Kalith realizes. _The strike team. Right._ At the end of the transmission, Zavala's eyes focus, and his voice goes hard and decisive. "Identify the Vex point of egress immediately. Find where that portal goes, Guardians. I'm counting on you."

Turning to Kalith again, Zavala takes his hands. There's worry in his eyes, writ in deep lines across his brow. "I have to cut this short. Meet me in the Tower when you can. I love you."

Kalith presses a kiss to Zavala's knuckle and watches crystals of ice bloom there. "I love you, too."

* * *

When he steps out into the snow again, he finds Pelagia conferring with Eris and the Stranger while the Drifter pokes at the fire.

"We often forget," says Eris, "that when cornered, prey have not two responses, but four."

"I just know fight or flight," says Drifter. The fuel flares briefly, then shifts in a shower of sparks. "What else you got, Moondust?"

"Freeze," she answers calmly. "Some even slow their hearts and cool their bodies to simulate death. Your Guardian, forbidden from fighting the Darkness within him, instead continues to resist by freezing."

"Literally," says Pelagia. The relief in her voice is audible. "I think we were both afraid it was a sign the Darkness was winning."

"It's no mark against you, that you aren't ready yet to give in to temptation," says the Stranger. "You've fought the Darkness as long as you can remember. Of course you struggle to embrace it."

Kalith manages a smile. "I'd never thought I'd see a temptation that I could resist, but apparently even I have limits."

Drifter lets out a huff of laughter. "So. That makes three. What's four?"

The Stranger looks at Kalith, and in her gaze is something that he cannot name. Compassion, perhaps. Perhaps only the recognition that they're in this together. "Calling for help," she answers.

For the first time since he climbed the Ziggurat, Kalith begins to feel warm.


End file.
